


You have to stay well / Don't even get sick

by ttakjoha (nematoda)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jinyoung is such a mom, Just a little bit of Angst, OT7, Sickfic, vaguely inspired by events surrounding Fly in USA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7439176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nematoda/pseuds/ttakjoha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cold is going around Got7's dorm, and Mama Jinyoung does his best to take care of everyone.</p>
<p>Purposely ship-free! T for language</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was at Fly in Chicago, and watching sick Youngjae sing 1:31 a.m. with JB got me feeling things. Lots of things. Also, Park Jinyoung was a mother in his past life and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.
> 
> This was not beta'd, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> Also, I'm going off of what I know as the most recent roommate situation in their dorm: JB & Jackson, Mark & Youngjae, BamBam & Yugueom w/ Junior in the side room. Since we know Mark left the room with Jackson, I made the logical assumption that he moved into what used to be 2Jae's room (a.k.a. the room with the one double bed), and JB moved into Markson's old room (the room with the bunk beds). Hence, Mark and Youngjae would be sharing a bed. THIS IS ALL ENTIRELY SPECULATION but I hope it helps when reading the story.

It all started late one overcast afternoon in the recording studio. The whole team (minus Jackson) had spent the day recording and workshopping the songs for their latest comeback. It had been a long day, and as dinner time approached, Jinyoung could sense the team’s spirits declining. Many of the songs were their own compositions, so tensions were running higher than usual. In addition, Jaebum had picked a few fights with the producers, which always set the group on edge. It was currently Mark’s turn in the recording booth, and Jinyoung watched attentively as Mark struggled with the exact pronunciation of his latest rap. In between takes, Mark was clearing his throat often, and drinking a lot of water. He looked exhausted.

“PD-nim? I think we should call it a day,” Jinyoung said quietly. The producer, clearly also exhausted, turned to look at him. After a moment’s speculation, he nodded slowly.

“All right. But we’re back at it first thing in the morning, understand?” The producer said, pointing a commanding finger in Jinyoung’s direction. Jinyoung nodded and bowed slightly, and the producer turned to call Mark out of the booth.

“Let’s get takeout, okay?” BamBam asked as they all piled into the van a few minutes later. “I really don’t feel like eating ramyun again.”

“That’s fine with me. Jaebum? Takeout?” Jinyoung asked. Jaebum, in the back seat next to BamBam, shrugged halfheartedly, staring out the window as the van began to move. Jinyoung knew better than to ask him to participate more than that. When he got in these moods, it was best to just leave him alone until it blew over. More than four years of working together had taught him that much. Yugyeom, on the other side of BamBam, had seemingly already fallen asleep. Jinyoung knew he would be hungry when he woke up, though.

“Okay, I’ll order,” Jinyoung said, pulling out his phone. Clearly JB and Yugyeom weren't going to phone it in, and Mark and BamBam still didn’t like talking on the phone in Korean, since there were no facial cues to follow and the bad connection made everything harder to understand. Youngjae was in his own little world, playing a new game on his phone, so (as almost always) the responsibility fell to Jinyoung. He pulled up the number for their favorite neighborhood restaurant. “What does everyone want?”

The members sluggishly called out their orders, and, making an educated guess as to what Yugyeom wanted, Jinyoung placed the call. He hoped that calling from the car would make the wait once they got home seem shorter. Good food was the one thing that cheered them all up after a hard day.

A quiet cough from Mark shook Jinyoung out of his reverie. He looked over to the boy sitting next to him. Mark had his hoodie up and was leaning against the window. He took another sip from the water bottle in his hand. Jinyoung reached across the small aisle and nudged him.

“Mark-hyung, are you okay?”

Mark turned to look at him, nodding as he swallowed the water. “My throat is being tickled, that’s all.”

“Your throat is being tickled?” Jinyoung asked, smirking. Mark’s Korean was currently better than ever, of course, but some phrases would never translate perfectly. Mark reached out a sweatshirt paw and swatted Jinyoung’s arm.

“You know what I mean,” Mark said. Jinyoung grabbed Mark’s hand from his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Mark squeezed his fingers back and let go. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Just as Jinyoung was debating whether or not to let it go, it began to rain. Big, fat raindrops pelted the van, and Jinyoung found himself slipping into a daze as he watched them roll down the window. Before he knew it, the van was splashing to a halt in front of their dormitory. Luckily, the rain must have scared away the few fans that always seemed to hover near their building, so they wouldn’t be pestered for pictures and autographs. The van’s doors slid open and everyone made a dash for the dry haven that was their dorm building.

The food arrived shortly after they did, and everyone set in silently and voraciously. Jinyoung did his best to ignore the almost constant throat-clearing from Mark, especially since no one else seemed to notice it. After dinner, they lay around watching TV, Mark curled up against Jinyoung’s side, flipping through his SNS on his phone. He continued to clear his throat with increasing frequency, so much so Jinyoung began counting the seconds between the rough little noises. It was driving him insane. The first time Mark really coughed, Jinyoung stood up abruptly, startling Mark. He ignored Mark’s inquisitive look and headed to the kitchen, where he turned on the kettle and started preparing two cups of tea, adding a liberal amount of honey to Mark’s cup.

When he returned to the living room with two steaming mugs in hand, Mark appraised him with raised eyebrows. Jinyoung shrugged, passing one to Mark and resuming his spot on the couch.

“What? I wanted some tea, and I thought you might like some,” he explained, with a little bit of the pout he knew Mark liked.

“Hmm,” Mark hummed, leaning back into Jinyoung’s side with a look that said ‘you’re not fooling anyone, Park Jinyoung.’ He took a sip of the tea and grimaced. “Ah! So sweet!”

“Don’t you like honey?”

“Not when it’s half the cup!”

“Drink it anyway, it’s good for you.”

“Yes, Mom.”

After finishing his cup of honey-with-a-side-of-tea, Mark promptly fell asleep. Jinyoung waited a few minutes to ensure he was really asleep before surreptitiously feeling his forehead. As he suspected, Mark was burning up. He gently shook his hyung awake.

“Hyung, wake up,” Jinyoung whispered. Mark mumbled something and stretched. “It’s late. Go to bed.”

Barely conscious, Mark obliged, heading to the room he was currently sharing with Youngjae. After cleaning up the living room a bit, Jinyoung took his own advice and headed off to bed himself. That night, he dreamed that Mark stopped speaking altogether, and only used variously pitched coughs to communicate.

 

\--

 

In the morning, Jinyoung was woken by Youngjae’s less-than-quiet voice.

“Hyung, wake up. I think Mark-hyung is sick.”

That was all it took to get Jinyoung awake. He sat up, took a few moments to get his bearings, and looked at Youngjae, who was sitting cross-legged at the edge of his futon and looked like he had only just woken up himself. His eyes were blurry and his hair was sticking up in strange, clearly unintentional directions.

“He’s been coughing all night, and his forehead is hot.”

“Yeah, I noticed he was coughing yesterday too,” Jinyoung said, rubbing his eyes. “Is he awake?”

“No, I snuck out because I didn’t want to wake him,” Youngjae said, bobbing his knees up and down. He cleared his throat. “I tried to tell Jaebum-hyung, but you know how he is in the morning.”

Jinyoung nodded, knowing very well how Jaebum was in the morning. “Well, let’s see how he’s feeling when he wakes up. We still have recording to do today.”

“Okay,” Youngjae agreed, already seeming happier to have a plan. He stood up and stretched. “Do you know when Jackson-hyung gets back tonight?”

“Late, I think. I’ll message him later and ask.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

An hour later, Jinyoung had already showered, dressed, and eaten breakfast by the time Mark emerged, which was unusual. Mark and Jinyoung were the early risers, so they usually ate breakfast together. Even though he wasn’t feeling well, Mark was still up before Jaebum, however. (Their leader had never been the best at mornings.) As the oldest member entered the kitchen, Jinyoung slid a fresh mug of tea across the table toward him. Mark took a sip and made a face.

“You need to stop with the honey, Jinyoungie.” Mark’s voice was deep and raspy. He coughed a few times, definitely harder than he had coughed the night before, and turned to dig through the refrigerator for something to eat.

“How do you feel?” Jinyoung asked, ignoring the honey comment and trying to seem nonchalant. Mark kept his head in the fridge.

“I have a headache.”

“I’ll get you some painkillers--”

“I already took some,” Mark sighed, emerging from the fridge with a banana and a bottle of water. He sat across from Jinyoung at the table and began to wearily peel his banana. Jinyoung realized he was staring and didn’t care.

“Well that should help with the fever, at least. Is that all you’re eating?” He knew he was being overbearing and motherly.

“I’m not very hungry,” Mark said, voice still rough even after a gulp of water. He took a bite of banana and talked with his mouth full. “We don’t have any schedules tomorrow. I’ll be fine until then.”

“Youngjae is worried.”

“Only Youngjae is worried?” Mark asked, smirking. Jinyoung smiled back, feeling relieved that his hyung still had a sense of humor, at the very least. It must not be that bad if Mark was still joking around. “I’ll be fine. Just don’t tell the producers I’m sick, okay?”

Jinyoung nodded, and made a mental note to intercept the others with the message before they all left for the studio. The last thing they needed was BamBam or Yugyeom pointing out Mark’s cough in front of the staff. Mark would get scolded for showing up sick, and be forced to come back to the studio another day to record his parts alone. Despite his seemingly shy demeanor, Mark thrived off of the support of his fellow members, and the thought of recording by himself must have terrified him. Jinyoung was determined not to let that happen.

 

\--

 

All day, Mark performed well, but Jinyoung could tell that he was only getting worse. By lunch time, he was completely silent, seeming to focus only on the effort it took to hold in his coughs in front of the producers. The staff supplied the group with takeout and told them to come back in an hour. Mark drank some soup and spent the rest of the time lying down on the couch, eyes closed and forehead crinkled, like he was concentrating very hard on something. Jinyoung went in search of the staff noona that he knew always kept painkillers in her purse, and got a few pills off of her by claiming he had a headache from Youngjae’s loud singing. When he returned to the break area, the other members were talking quietly, and Mark was lying very still with an arm slung across his face. Jinyoung nudged him out of his daze and gave him the pills, which Mark swallowed wordlessly before resuming his prone position. Jinyoung sat on the ground next to the couch, suddenly remembering that he had promised to message Jackson about his arrival. He pulled out his phone and opened Kakao.

 

pepi_jr: What time will you be back tonight?

jacksonwang852g7: My flight arrives at 7:45, so probably close to 10:00, depending on fans & traffic

pepi_jr: Mark-hyung is sick

jacksonwang852g7: !!!

jacksonwang852g7: !!!!!!!!

 

The next message was just a collection of urgent but seemingly random emojis. Jinyoung was about to reply when he heard Youngjae clear his throat loudly.

“Ah, my throat is really hurting today,” Youngjae grumbled absentmindedly from where he was sitting leaning against the wall. He took a sip of the smoothie he had ordered with his lunch and continued flipping through his phone. One by one, the members turned to look at him with shocked faces.

“Hyung!” BamBam whined, voice rising in alarm before he remembered that they were supposed to be quiet, so as to draw less attention to Mark. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you sick too?”

“I don’t think so!” Youngjae said, seeming surprised at himself. Jaebum leaned over and put a hand on his forehead.

“You’re feverish.” Jaebum pulled his hand back to pound his fist on the ground. “Damnit, Youngjae! Why did you sleep in the same bed as him if you knew he was sick?”

“I didn’t know he was sick until this morning!” Youngjae protested, feeling his own forehead. “I don’t feel terrible, honestly!”

“Not yet, you don’t,” Jaebum said, leaning back against the wall and rubbing a hand over his face. He pointed back and forth between Mark and Youngjae. “You two are quarantined when we get back home. We don’t have time for the whole team to get sick. Not with our comeback in a month.”

“We’re lucky this happened now, at least,” Yugyeom added thoughtfully. “Imagine if they got sick a week before the comeback, or during it.”

“Ah, don’t say stuff like that, you’ll jinx us,” Jaebum grumbled, smacking Yugyeom lightly on the back of the head. Yugyeom yelped before putting a hand over his mouth. Jaebum glared at him and turned back to the rest of the group. “Jinyoung-ah, does that noona have more painkillers?”

“Yes, but I think she’ll be suspicious if I ask for more,” Jinyoung said. “I told her I had a headache from Youngjae’s singing.”

“I can get some more from her,” BamBam volunteered. “That noona likes me. She says I remind her of her little brother.”

“Okay, you get some more pills for Youngjae, and we’ll get through this afternoon,” Jaebum said. BamBam got up and hurried off to bother the noona. “We don’t have any schedules tomorrow, so we can all rest and hopefully no one else will get sick.”

By the time BamBam returned with the painkillers, their lunch break was over. They all looked at each other and seemed to come to a wordless agreement: get through today, worry about illness later. Jinyoung only hoped it would work.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time the producers were content with their performances, the sun had set and Youngjae had begun to feel the effects of the cold. In between takes he would sit quietly, sipping cold water and looking pained. Considering Mark had an entire day’s worth of illness on Youngjae, Jinyoung was shocked that he was holding on so well. It was lucky that Mark’s parts weren’t as physically draining as someone like Youngjae’s powerful vocals, and that rap in general sounds a bit better raspy, or else Jinyoung thought Mark would have been found out several hours ago.

As they piled into the van to head home, Jinyoung’s head was spinning with concern over their situation. For one thing, Mark clearly wasn’t getting any better. For another, now two members were sick, and they had a filming schedule just the day after next, for the new season of “Real Got7.” They could get by without one member, but two was pushing it. Also, apart from painkillers and tea, they didn’t have anything in their dorm that would benefit a sick person. Jinyoung was seriously considering just telling their manager and getting it over with. Maybe taking Mark and Youngjae to see a doctor was the best plan.

“We probably shouldn’t order takeout again, right hyung?” BamBam asked, shaking Jinyoung out of his reverie. Jinyoung shook his head, which was beginning to hurt with all the stressing he was doing, and turned to look at BamBam in the back seat, sandwiched between Yugyeom and Mark.

“I don’t want it, personally. We’ve been ordering out so much lately; my stomach hurts just thinking about it.”

“I’m craving chicken,” Jaebum sighed absentmindedly from the front seat. Jinyoung rolled his eyes.

“You have two sick members and all you can think about is chicken?” Jinyoung muttered, purposely just loud enough that Jaebum could hear him.

“What’s your great plan, then, Jinyoung-ah? Soup?” Jaebum said, twisting in his seat to stare him down. His dark eyes flashed with irritation, just a hint of that infamous temper shining through. Jinyoung shrugged. He refused to appear intimidated by Jaebum. “You don’t even know how to make soup!”

“I’ll look up a recipe online, then, or call my mom. At least I’m trying, hyung. Can you say the same?”

From his position slumped against the window, Mark groaned. “Please don’t fight.”

Jaebum huffed and turned back in his seat, but Jinyoung knew the fight was far from over. He knew Jaebum hated being put on the spot in front of their members, but he was also incredibly tired of his attitude the past few days. He wanted their benevolent, overprotective leader back, instead of this sulky, self-centered diva.

“I’m not even hungry,” Youngjae mumbled from the seat behind Jaebum. Jinyoung turned to see him leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands. He took a deep breath and coughed twice. “I just want to go to sleep.”

“You need to eat something, though,” Jinyoung said, reaching a hand out to rub gentle circles on Youngjae’s back. “You both do.”

“I thought you’re supposed to starve a fever?” Mark asked quietly, not even opening his eyes. “Or is it a cold? Starve a cold? Something like that.”

“I think your fever is making you delirious,” Yugyeom said, barely holding back a chuckle. “You can’t starve a fever. It doesn’t eat.”

“It’s real. Look it up.”

“Okay, Mark-hyung, whatever you say.”

By the time they got back to the dorm, Jaebum had cooled off a little, and assisted in herding the sick members out of the van. His expression was still cloudy and petulant, but his actions had gentled, particularly toward the sick members. The group covered their faces as best they could from the prying eyes of the fans waiting in the dark and entered the building in almost record time. Jinyoung always felt bad for the girls who spent so much time waiting for them, only to be completely ignored once they arrived, but they had learned their lesson the hard way years ago. They used to talk to fans who waited outside their dorm, but word of mouth spread and soon every trip home turned into a mini fan-meeting. They were forbidden by the management from talking to fans outside of designated engagements after that. Although Jinyoung felt guilty, he had to admit that the direct order from the managers made it easier on his conscience to leave the girls behind without a second glance, and hustle the boys inside like a worried mother.

Once inside their dorm, Mark and Youngjae headed immediately to their room, and the other members dispersed with similar speed. Jinyoung found himself alone in the kitchen, looking through their cabinets and refrigerator, trying to piece together ingredients in a combination that would be appealing to the two invalids. After multiple tries of making broth that turned out either watery or strangely sour, he gave up up violently, slamming the pot of ruined broth into the sink with a shout. It was getting late, and he was exhausted from the long day of recording, hungry from not having had any dinner himself, and frustrated at his lack of cooking skill. On top of all that, the guilt of knowing that Mark and Youngjae hadn’t eaten because of his failure to produce something edible weighed heavily on his mind. He leaned his back against the counter and slid to the floor, putting his face in his hands. He took a few shaky breaths and cursed himself for being so useless. What good was he as a member of Got7 if he couldn’t even take care of the others when they needed him most?

“Surely it can’t be as bad as all that,” a deep voice said from the door to the kitchen. Jinyoung looked up to see Jaebum, dressed in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, holding a stack of Styrofoam containers and looking uncomfortable. He had always hated seeing the members get upset, and Jinyoung certainly fit that description, sitting on the floor of the kitchen, fighting back tears.

“How the hell would you know?” Jinyoung asked, making the accusation evident in his tone. “It’s not as though you offered to help. And what is that? You went and ordered takeout anyways? You bastard.”

“Hey! That’s enough,” Jaebum snapped, throwing the empty containers in the trash and approaching Jinyoung. “BamBam and Yugyeom wanted to give you your space in the kitchen, so we ordered food. We asked Mark and Youngjae if they wanted anything, and they said no. So watch who you’re calling a bastard, all right?”

“Right, blame the maknaes for the bad decision; that’s a great idea, leader,” Jinyoung scoffed, lacing his tone with acid but keeping his gaze trained passively on the floor. He surprised even himself with the vehemence he was feeling toward Jaebum. How long had he been holding this feeling in? Days? Weeks? All he knew was that the more he spoke, the truer the words felt. “Should I even call you leader? You haven't been acting like one lately.”

Jaebum stalked across the kitchen, pulled out a chair, and sat. Jinyoung looked up to see his oldest friend sitting with tightly clasped hands and clenched jaw, clearly struggling to control his temper. When Jaebum spoke, his tone was low but threatened to escalate in volume at any moment.

“If I haven't been a good leader then you're just as guilty of not being a good performer. You've been so distracted with the other members that you gave your worst recordings ever. Did you even notice that you spent twice as much time in the booth as anyone else? Did you notice how annoyed the producers were with you? I've been working my ass off the past few days, keeping them off your back. Do I get any thanks? No, instead I get called a bastard for ordering takeout.”

“I'm sorry,” Jinyoung mumbled, letting his head drop in embarrassment. He really hadn't noticed that his performance was subpar. He had been so focused on making sure Youngjae and Mark were okay that he had barely paid attention to his job. “I just don't know what to do. Mark-hyung just keeps getting worse, and now Youngjae… We don't have time for this.”

“I know,” Jaebum said quietly, apparently letting the fight drain out of him as quickly as he had brought it forth. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. “As long as no one else gets sick, I think we can make it without telling the managers. But you can't get distracted like that, Jinyoung-ah. Getting them mad at you instead of Mark and Youngjae won't do anyone any good.”

Jinyoung merely nodded slowly to that, feeling shame turn his ears hot. He had neglected his job, the contract he had agreed to uphold, for the sake of his friends. If he had been in any other career field, he would have been fired for such negligence. It was easy to misplace priorities, he reflected, when you actually cared about your co-workers. But JB was right; they were idols, first and foremost, and he needed to remember that, especially when his failures reflected negatively on the team as a whole.

“What are we going to do about Mark and Youngjae? They still haven’t eaten, and they’ll never get better without some kind of nourishment. I don’t care if they’re hungry or not. I’ll force feed them if I have to.”

“Just make them ramyun. I have never once seen either of them turn down ramyun.”

Jinyoung made a face. “It’s so unhealthy.”

“Unhealthy food or no food--take your pick,” Jaebum said, tilting his head and smirking in a way that made Jinyoung want to punch him in the face. Jinyoung glared at him for a moment before pushing himself off the floor and onto his feet again.

“I don’t like it when you’re honest. You should lie more.”

Jaebum laughed as he stood, and took a few steps to grab Jinyoung’s shoulders in both hands. He shook him back and forth lightly, and Jinyoung mused upon the fact that Jaebum showing affection looked an awful lot like Jaebum trying to strangle someone.

“You punk. Here, get the water boiling. I’ll see if I can find something nutritious to add to it.”

Working together made Jinyoung immediately feel more at ease. Between the two of them, they managed to make a halfway decent pot of ramyun, supplemented with eggs, carrots, and something leafy and green they had found wilted in the back of the fridge. Just as Jaebum was pouring the broth into bowls, they heard the key code being entered at the front door. Jinyoung checked the time on his phone--was it really 10:30 already? That meant--

_“Where is he?”_ They heard the unmistakably loud sound of Jackson’s voice, following by a crash and the rustling of several plastic bags. Jinyoung poked his head out of the kitchen to see Jackson hurriedly kicking off his shoes and stepping into his slippers before nearly tripping over his suitcase, which was toppled over in front of him (that was the crashing sound, then). He barrelled past Jinyoung, still in his coat and mask from the airport, his hands full of plastic bags.

“Keep your voice down!” Jinyoung shushed, trying to catch him before he got to Mark and Youngjae’s room. “Wait, don’t--”

By the time Jinyoung caught up with him, Jackson was already sitting on the double futon, right in between the two sleeping boys, and spilling the contents of his plastics bags all over the bed. Countless boxes of pills and bottles of dark liquid tumbled out, enough to medicate a small army. Jackson began gently shaking Mark, causing Mark to groan and roll over, pulling his pillow around his ears. Youngjae, woken up by the commotion, propped himself up on one elbow and coughed loudly.

“Mark-hyung! Wake up! I brought you medicine! Youngjae, are you sick too? Oh my _God!_ Good thing I bought so much, right? The store clerk said I was going overboard, but look who’s laughing now! Me! I’m laughing! Well, not actually laughing because this is terrible, I’m so sorry you’re sick. How are you feeling? Wait, don’t answer that if your throat is sore. Here, look at all these supplements I bought…”

Jinyoung watched as Jackson began explaining each box or bottle, describing the benefits of each with elaborate hand gestures and the occasional English word thrown in. Just then, Jaebum appeared with the two bowls of ramyun on a tray, which he deposited next to the bed. After a semi-serious threat that he would never forgive them if they didn’t eat the meal he and Jinyoung had so lovingly prepared, Jaebum retreated, giving Jackson a solemn look on the way out. He paused in the doorway where Jinyoung still hovered, and the two of them watched Jackson bother the two invalids into sitting up and eating, chatting all the while and nearly force-feeding them various pills. Jaebum squeezed Jinyoung’s shoulder, mumbled a sleepy, _go to bed Jinyoung-ah, they’ll be fine,_ and left to his own room. After a few more moments of surreptitious observation, Jinyoung took his hyung’s advice and went to his own bed, upon which he collapsed unceremoniously and fell asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Jinyoung woke early, despite not having set an alarm. He spent a few minutes flopping around in bed, trying to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep on this rare day off, before giving up and getting up like the good hyung he tried to denied being. After relieving his bladder and brushing his teeth, he crept silently through the apartment to the room of Mark and Youngjae. No one else was up, of course, because it was 8:30 a.m. on a day with no schedules, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was being watched as he turned the door handle with the silence of a cat burglar and peered his head inside.

In between the perfectly immobile body of Mark and the lightly snoring form of Youngjae lay Jackson, still in his coat, still surrounded by bottles and boxes of pills, with his airport mask hanging from one ear and his mouth hanging open. Jinyoung tried to feel surprised, but he couldn’t even fool himself. He should have known not to go to bed without making sure that Jackson was safely away from the invalids. After spending half the day travelling, of course Jackson would fall asleep in the warmth and comfort of Mark and Youngjae’s bed. Of course he would spend the past nine hours sandwiched directly between two living embodiments of contagion, breathing with his mouth open like he was trying to suck all the sickness out of the air.

Suddenly, Jinyoung heard a quiet cough from several rooms away, followed by a wail of _Noooo_ that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He hurried toward the source of the noise: BamBam and Yugyeom’s room. When he entered, he found BamBam kneeling on the floor, hands raised to the heavens beseechingly. His eyes watered and a line of snot ran out of his nose; he looked completely pitiful.

“ _Why meeee?_ ” BamBam wailed, falling forward onto all fours and coughing violently. “What have I done to deserve this fate? What gods have I angered?”

Jinyoung merely stood by and watched, feeling his face set into a grim mask. He couldn’t even bring himself to comfort his dongsaeng, knowing that between BamBam and now probably Jackson, they were going to have to cancel their schedules for the next few days. He only hoped it would be fearless Im Leader making that phone call, and not himself.

“Get up, Bam, I’ll make you some tea,” Jinyoung said, instead of what he wanted to say, which was _“we’re all fucked so join the club, man.”_ He gave his hand to BamBam and hoisted him to his feet, wrapping a comforting arm around the other as he guided him to the living room. Jinyoung pushed him to the couch, with the vague direction of “watch some cartoons or something,” and headed to the kitchen to see what he could manage to make for what was turning out to be an entire dorm full of flu-ish adolescents.

Just as Jinyoung was plating on an entire carton worth of fried eggs and a pot of rice, he heard a commotion coming from the bedrooms. He poked his head out to look at BamBam, curled up on the couch and staring back at him with wide eyes. Following a loud shout, Jinyoung ran toward the sound, with BamBam taking a moment to untangle himself from the blankets before following hot on his heels. They arrived just in time to see Jaebum, straddling a very confused and flushed Mark, shaking his hyung by the shoulders and shouting into his face.

“This is all--"  _cough_ "--your--"  _wheeze_ "--fault!” Jaebum hollered, pausing to turn his face away and hack roughly a few times before resuming his assault of Mark. Jackson, finally awake, shoved Jaebum over with fervor and climbed on top of him, pinning him to the ground. The fight seeped out of Jaebum almost immediately, and he lay limply under Jackson’s weight, doing an excellent impression of a possum playing dead.

“What the _hell_ are you doing, man?” Jackson asked, giving Jaebum a not-so-gentle slap to the chest for good measure. Mark scooted across the bed to the waiting arms of Youngjae, who looked petrified. Jaebum sighed deeply, shoved Jackson off of him and sat up.

“I’m sorry, Mark-hyung,” Jaebum said, as he if he hadn’t just tried to strangle him in his sleep. “I just hate being sick.”

The room was deadly quiet for a few moments, everyone watching Mark for a reaction. A strange, strangled giggle bubbled out of their oldest member, quiet at first but building in intensity until he was rolling around on the bed, coughing and laughing uncontrollably, tears pouring from his eyes. Youngjae soon joined in with his bell-like cackle, while Jackson just looked confused and concerned. Jaebum ducked his head to hide his smile.

_“You… hate… being… sick!”_ Mark gasped from where he lay on his back, reaching out a hand to swat lazily at Jaebum, who flopped onto his side like a dead fish and started wheezing laughter. “Well you don’t have much choice now, do you, Jaebumie?”

Jackson looked back and forth between the sick members, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Jinyoung-ah, should we call someone?”

“Who would we call, a mental hospital?” Jinyoung said snidely, crossing his arms over his chest. He tried not to smile at the sheer insanity of the situation. “Come on, crazies, I made breakfast.”

Later that morning, after everyone had eaten breakfast and Yugyeom had emerged and announced that, yes, he was sick too, and he hated all of them for it (which was met by a cheer loud enough to make Jinyoung think he was in a bar surrounded by drunkards), they all piled into the living room, with a few bringing their futons out to make one large bed on the floor. Just as everyone was arguing over which show to watch (Yugyeom wanted them all to watch his latest drama obsession, BamBam’s vote was for reality TV, and Mark just wanted anything American and action-based), Jinyoung tugged Jaebum aside with a look that he hoped came across as serious.

“You need to call the managers before it’s too late,” Jinyoung said, knowing that Jaebum hated doing this kind of thing but also that he never backed down from his responsibility as leader. He nodded solemnly and got up, heading to the quiet of his room to make the phone call. Jinyoung hushed everyone, informing them of Jaebum’s actions, and they all waited in tense silence for the verdict.

Eventually, Jaebum emerged, phone clenched in hand and head hung low. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he sighed deeply, rubbing a hand wearily over his face.

“The managers said… _that we get two more days off!”_

The room erupted into shouts of joy and spontaneous dancing. If Jinyoung didn’t know better, he would have sworn that they had all faked being sick just to have a vacation. Someone turned on a loud pop song and the whole group bounced around, singing along at the top of their lungs. By the end of the first chorus, however, Mark and Youngjae had sat back down, breathing heavily, and by then end of the song the rest of the members had followed suit, sprawled across the living space in various states of breathlessness, coughing, and exhaustion.

As the impromptu party wound down, Jinyoung pulled Jaebum aside with a hand on his shoulder and gave him a questioning look. The smile Jaebum gave him was strained, but genuine.

“They gave me an earful, but what can they do?” Jaebum asked, shrugging nonchalantly. Jinyoung could see the sadness in his eyes. He hated letting their managers down, even now, even when it was something over which he had no control. More than anything, Jaebum hated feeling out of control. “We’ll all have to work twice as hard when we get back, but for now, we’re off the hook. So don’t worry about it, Jinyoungie.”

Jaebum shook Jinyoung’s hand from his shoulder and went to join the rest of the boys in a heap on the floor, trying to agree on what to watch on TV. Jinyoung tried not the notice the tense set of his hyung’s shoulders, or the way his small smile never reached his eyes. He knew Jaebum was right, but he couldn’t help feeling his stomach clench with anxiety over the whole situation. He knew neither of them would be able to relax fully until everyone was healthy again and back to work.

Once they had all decided on something to watch (well, not so much decided as gave up arguing and let Yugyeom, the least sick of them all, watch his drama) the group spent the whole morning and early afternoon in various states of consciousness, all the while steadily burning through Jackson’s medicinal horde and all of the tea and tissue boxes in the dorm. After the fifth episode of Yugyeom’s show (to which almost everyone was now addicted), Jinyoung decided he needed some fresh air. After reflecting on their depleted supplies, he decided to head to the nearest convenience store and restock. And if he took his sweet time and maybe bought himself an Americano and an ice cream on the way, no one needed to know that but him.

“I’m going to the store for tea and drugs, does anyone want anything?” Jinyoung asked as he pulled together his going-out gear: large hat, sunglasses, black mask, coat.

“Justice for Ji-yoo and her long-lost twin Ji-woo,” Yugyeom wailed, rubbing at his reddened face as he started the next episode of the drama. Youngjae, cradling Yugyeom’s head in his lap and petting his hair soothingly, nodded in agreement.

“Those are not real people, so… no.” Jinyoung sighed, stepping into his shoes.

“Their feelings are real, Jinyoung-ah!” Jackson moaned, rolling onto his stomach to bury his face in the blankets on the floor. His next words came out muffled. “Why don’t you see if they’re selling souls at the store, since you clearly don’t have one.”

“Campbell’s chicken noodle soup,” Mark mumbled, half asleep and curled into an impossibly small ball in the corner of the couch.

“I’m not sure we have that here, Mark-hyung,” Jinyoung said, biting back a laugh.

“Then nothing.”

“Okay…”

“I want cola,” BamBam called out from where he hung upside down off the couch. Jinyoung gave him a long-suffering look.

“Will cola make your cold better?”

BamBam looked as though he was genuinely contemplating this question, before nodding seriously. “Yes.”

“No cola, Bam. Anyone else? Jaebum? Do you want anything?”

Jaebum was lying flat on his stomach on the floor, his face buried in his crossed arms.

“The sweet release of death.”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “All right then.”

It was going to be a long three days.

 

\--

 

The walk to the store had been uneventful; it was another overcast day, and Jinyoung could smell the imminent autumn in the air. With his headphones in and his idol disguise on, he felt invisible and delightfully alone. He stopped at the nearest coffee shop for his little treat, and took a roundabout route to the convenience store, so as to better enjoy the brisk day and his solitude.

Once he arrived at the store, he had to take his sunglasses off in order to see what he was buying (and also to be less conspicuous, because only idols wore sunglasses indoors). He loaded up a basket with various pills and syrups, tissues, tea, chicken-flavored ramyun (the closest thing he could find to “chicken noodle soup”--a request he still didn’t understand), a drama gossip magazine for Yugyeom, and a cola for BamBam. As he shopped, he could have sworn he kept seeing someone standing just out of his field of vision, but every time he turned, no one was there. He felt his own forehead. Either he was paranoid or he was getting a fever himself; they had shopped at this local convenience store dozens of times without having a fan encounter. He grabbed one more item, a digital thermometer, paid for his purchases, and hurried home, praying that his mind was playing tricks on him.


	4. Chapter 4

When Jinyoung returned to the dorm, less than an hour since he had left it, the entire group was asleep, strewn about the living room like so many rag dolls. Jinyoung toed out of his shoes and into his slippers with the stealth of a cat burgular, trying to move the plastic bags in his hands as little as possible so as not to wake anyone with the rustling. After unpacking his purchases in the kitchen, he stood in the doorway and took stock of the situation. The TV was still droning on through Yugyeom’s drama, but Yugyeom was out cold, using Youngjae’s stomach as a pillow. Jinyoung stifled a chuckle as he watched Yugyeom’s head rise and fall slowly in time with Youngjae’s deep belly breathing. Mark was still curled like a hedgehog in the corner of the couch, tucked so far under a blanket that Jinyoung could only see the top of his head. BamBam was sprawled across the other end of the couch, shirt pulled up to reveal his tan stomach, eyelids opened just enough that Jinyoung could see the whites of his eyes even as he slept. (He reflected that BamBam was not the most graceful sleeper.) In the center of the room were Jaebum and Jackson, both stripped down to sleeveless shirts and boxers as though in the midst of a heat wave, but curled against each other as though freezing to death. Jackson shivered in his sleep, and Jinyoung sighed. Pausing briefly to pull out his phone and take a photo (every time is the right time for collecting blackmail material), Jinyoung ransacked the members’ rooms to fetch the blankets off their beds before distributing them amongst the sleeping boys. He tiptoed through the group, feeling foreheads and tucking blankets in (as well as gently nudging Yugyeom’s head off of Youngjae and onto a pillow) before turning the TV off and standing back to admire his work.

_ You would all die without me. _

The quiet atmosphere and the warmth of being indoors after his brisk walk had Jinyoung yawning. He reckoned that he deserved a little break after mothering six boys all day, and headed back to his room, intending to settle in for a few hours with a paperback. He had barely made it ten pages before his eyelids slid shut of their own accord, and he fell into a restless sleep.

 

\--

 

Jinyoung woke later to the sounds of loud conversation. He rubbed his eyes and looked around in confusion, noting that the sun had set while he slept. He checked his phone for the time--nearly eight o’clock. He had slept for more than two hours. He took a moment to lie still in the dark, enjoying the comfort of his bed and deliberately ignoring the creeping soreness in his throat. After a loud cheer erupted from the living room, he kicked his blankets aside petulantly and emerged to find out what all the ruckus was about.

The majority of the members were still lying around the living room. Yugyeom had resumed playing his drama, but no one else was paying attention any more, and so he sat cross-legged only a meter from the screen to be able to hear over the commotion behind him. A commotion, Jinyoung observed, surrounding the use of the thermometer he had purchased at the convenience store that afternoon. Jackson sat with the thermometer in his mouth, and Youngjae, BamBam, and Mark watched with bated breath. At the sound of an electronic beep, Jackson removed the thermometer, and announced his temperature to the room.

“Thirty-eight point seven!” Jackson screamed, leaping up as the other members erupted in cheers. He ran a lap around the living room, waving the thermometer victoriously and shouting.  _ “New record! New record!” _

Jinyoung watched the proceedings with some confusion. Just as he was about to ask what was going on, Jaebum emerged from the kitchen to stand beside him, holding a mug of tea. He took a sip and nodded in the boys’ direction.

“They found your thermometer,” Jaebum said, his voice raspy and low.

“I see that,” Jinyoung said, beginning to get a grasp on the situation. “And the game is… ?”

“Who has the highest fever,” Jaebum said, the corners of his mouth turning down. He shook his head in mock seriousness. “So childish, really.”

“You lost, then?”

“Thirty-seven point nine,” Jaebum muttered, shooting Jinyoung a dirty look. Jinyoung covered his smile with one hand, causing Jaebum to squint menacingly at him. “Excuse me for being the healthiest.”

“Nah, it’s because you’re the coldest,” Jackson said, breathing heavily and coming to a stop in front of the pair, still holding the thermometer. He posed enthusiastically, stretching his arms out like a bodybuilder, belying the congestion in his voice and the fever-induced sheen of sweat on his body. “Me? I’m  _ hot! _ Wang Jackson, hottest of them all! Hot champion!”

“You should probably take something for that, Mr. Champion,” Jinyoung said bemusedly. He should have known that providing a room full of feverish boys with a quantifiable way to compare sickness would result in competition.

“And relinquish my title? Never!” Jackson announced dramatically, holding an open palm to his chest as though deeply wounded by the thought. At Jinyoung’s dead-eyed look, he dropped his act immediately. “Yeah, I’ll take something in a minute. Hey, you should do it! Since you’re not sick, we can use you as the baseline for the leader board.”

Jaebum turned to look at Jinyoung, raising his eyebrows slightly. Jinyoung rolled his eyes, knowing perfectly well that Jaebum only wanted him to do it so he wouldn’t be in last place.

“And catch whatever it is that you all have and join you in misery? No thanks.” Besides, between the way his own body was shivering slightly and the ache in his head and his throat, Jinyoung wasn’t so sure he would be in last place... But he wasn’t going to let any of them know that. Who would give up the advantage he had over the group so easily? Besides, after all his nagging and coddling, they would never let him live it down. Got7 was a surprisingly ruthless bunch.

Jackson pouted, holding his palms together in supplication. “Please? We’ll sanitize it first!”

“Absolutely not. Besides, I wouldn’t want to take Jaebum-hyung’s title of cold champion away from him, when he loves it so much.”

Jaebum scowled and went to join BamBam and Youngjae on the couch. BamBam was looking at his phone intensely. He held it out to Jaebum and muttered something. Jaebum took it and scrolled for a minute, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

“Ya! Did anyone post something about being sick on their SNS?” Jaebum asked, silencing the room with his tone. The members looked at each other worriedly, each denying the accusation. Mark and Youngjae pulled out their phones as well, and Yugyeom paused the drama and hurried off to his room, presumably to find his.

“Why are there so many comments telling me to get well soon?” Youngjae asked, looking befuddled. “How would they even know I’m sick?”

“Found it,” Mark announced grimly. “‘GOT7 take a sick day! Member Junior spotted buying medicine at local convenience store!’ Jinyoung-ah, someone must have seen you.”

Mark held his phone aloft just as Yugyeom returned, and everyone gathered around. Sure enough, there were several photos of Jinyoung in his hat and mask, holding a basket full of tissue boxes and medications, completely unaware of the camera trained on him. There was even a video of him browsing the cold and flu section, selecting several boxes from the shelves. Jinyoung felt his skin prickle at the thought that someone had been recording him.

“You should have been more careful,” Jaebum grumbled, turning to pin Jinyoung with an accusatory glance. Jinyoung felt his face grow hot in embarrassment.

“How could I have possibly known that someone was watching me?” Jinyoung protested, simultaneously indignant at the accusation and ashamed that he hadn’t been as careful as he’d thought.

“We’re idols, we’re always being watched!” Jaebum said, rubbing his face with his hands in frustration. “You should have sent one of the staff out instead of risking being seen. Now what are we supposed to do? This is already blowing up!”

“Hey, it’s not his fault,” Jackson said, pushing Jinyoung back slightly and coming to stand between him and Jaebum. His posture and his tone announced that he was ready for a fight, should their leader’s temper spiral out of control, as it was apt to do in stressful situations. Jinyoung was grateful for the solidarity, but annoyed that it was needed at all. It wasn’t like he had planned to get caught. Where did Jaebum get off confronting him for something he couldn’t control?

Just then, Jaebum’s phone started ringing. He looked at the caller ID and gritted his teeth before training a heated look once again on Jinyoung.

“It’s the manager.”

Jaebum left the room as he answered the call, leaving the group in tense silence. Jackson turned to give Jinyoung a hug, but Jinyoung shrugged him off. He was upset, certainly, but more than anything, he was mad. Jaebum had no right to treat him that way, not after everything he’d done the past few days. He felt the weight of the member’s stares on him as they sat in silence, waiting for him to speak, but before he could even start fuming properly over the injustice of it all, Jaebum had returned. He stood in front of them, fiddling with his phone and clenching his jaw anxiously.

“Here’s the plan: the film crew is going to come tomorrow, and we’ll film the first episode of Real Got7 here, in the dorm,” Jaebum announced, looking defeated, as he often did after being scolded by the manager.

“But we’re sick!” Yugyeom protested.

“Exactly,” Jaebum sighed. “They want to put a cute spin on it, like a slice-of-life thing. ‘Got7 healing together,’ something like that. Tug at the fangirls’ heartstrings.”

“But... we’re sick!” BamBam echoed, earning himself a nasty look from Jaebum. He scrambled to elaborate. “We look terrible, and the place is a mess. What are we supposed to do?”

“Clean up, I guess,” Jaebum said, looking less angry now and more exhausted and resigned. He turned to head back to his room, pausing to call over his shoulder. “They’re coming tomorrow morning, whether we’re ready or not. So do whatever you want, honestly. I don’t care.”

The members shared uneasy glances as Jaebum disappeared. Apathetic Jaebum was so much worse than angry Jaebum. Jinyoung felt absolutely useless. Clearly, the whole situation was his fault; Jaebum was right, he should have sent the staff out instead of risking being seen. He had been selfish, using the excuse of depleted supplies as cover for his desire to get away from the group and out of the dorm. If he had stayed in, none of this would have happened. Just as he felt himself begin to wallow in guilt, he noticed five pairs of eyes trained on him, waiting for instruction. He sighed and rubbed at his face, cursing himself for the whole situation.

“All right, well, everybody start with your individual rooms,” Jinyoung said, trying not to let his self-loathing show. “My room isn’t bad, so I’ll start with the living room.”

Everyone dispersed, and Jinyoung got to work. He only saw the rest of them in passing all night, carrying bags of trash out of their rooms and watching him clean with solemn expressions. The living room took him nearly two hours to clean, and when he was finished, he merely moved to the kitchen to continue cleaning, not pausing at all in his guilt-driven cleaning spree. He had completely lost track of time when Mark appeared silently in the doorway, watching him with a worried expression.

“Jinyoung-ah, you don’t sound so good,” Mark said quietly. Jinyoung had been coughing, hoping that the distance between the kitchen and the bedrooms would be enough that no one would hear him. He should have known better. He cleared his throat and shrugged, scrubbing at the counter top with a sponge. “You should go to bed. It’s late.”

“I’m almost done.”

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Mark murmured. Jinyoung stopped scrubbing but didn’t look up. Mark stayed in the doorway, giving Jinyoung the space he needed. The last thing he wanted was to start crying in front of his hyung, over something as stupid as this. Mark was always the most observant one, seeing right through Jinyoung when he most wanted to be opaque. “Don’t punish yourself.”

Jinyoung stood frozen for a few moments, and eventually Mark’s shadow disappeared from the doorway, leaving him alone with his sponge and his thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Jinyoung was woken by a congested Yugyeom shaking him and telling him to “get up, the camera guys will be here soon.” After spending all night making sure the dorm was spotless, he had only gotten two hours of sleep. His head was pounding (from lack of sleep, he told himself) and he felt shivery all over, like he had been sleeping in front of an air conditioner. _Just a few hours,_ he chanted in his head. _Just make it a few hours, then you can go back to bed._

By the time he had applied make-up and chosen an outfit that looked like something an idol would wear at home (not what he would actually wear at home, no way in hell was he doing that), it was only a few minutes until the production team was supposed to arrive. He stumbled to the kitchen, pausing for a moments in the hallway to lean against the wall when a spell of dizziness hit him, and found Mark and Jaebum at the kitchen table, sipping hot beverages and looking akin to death warmed over.

“Good morning,” Jinyoung mumbled, heading to the coffee machine and nearly weeping with gratitude when he found a full pot there. He poured himself a giant mug, skipping the flavored cream he would usually use. He figured drinking it black would get the caffeine into his system as quickly as possible. Besides, his tongue wasn’t really picking up tastes all that well, so he barely grimaced at the taste.

“Good morning, Jinyoungie,” Mark sighed, watching him critically over the rim of his own mug. “How did you sleep?”

“Well enough.” Jinyoung cleared his throat and took another sip. Mark pursed his lips and said nothing. The doorbell rang and Jaebum stood.

“Everybody ready?” Mark asked no one in particular.

“We’d better be,” Jaebum said, threat evident underneath the gravelly voice.

The film crew the company had sent was the one they usually used for Real Got7, so introductions weren’t necessary. With all the members gathered in the living room suppressing coughs and sneezes, the director went over the plan for filming. Jinyoung watched the cameramen exchange solemn glances. They all must look worst than they thought. Jinyoung could only imagine how uncomfortable they must be, to be filming the normally cheerful boys looking so miserable. _Just a few hours._

“So we’ve got a couple ideas for games and talking points,” the director rambled, flipping through pages on his clipboard. “Do you guys have any input? Anything we can use?”

“We could do the thermometer thing again,” Jackson volunteered. A few others nodded. The director scribbled on his clipboard.

“Jinyoung-ah isn’t sick, so we could play that up,” Jaebum added.

“Really? You’re not sick?” the director asked, looking doubtful. Jinyoung tried to channel his inner actor, flashing a dimpled smile.

“Not yet anyway!” A few half-assed chuckles from the cameramen. _Hook, line, and sinker._

“Okay, what else?”

A few more suggestions were thrown out, and after taking some notes and discussing angles with the cameramen, the director called action. They did their introductions, added a jokey explanation of their collective illness, singled Jinyoung out a few times, and got the games underway. Everything was going fine for the first hour of shooting; everyone was doing a great job of treading that fine line between pitiful and cute, and the director’s suggested segment of “how would you take care of a sick girlfriend?” was bound to make the fans swoon. The cameramen had gotten plenty of good material, and the director looked satisfied with the outcome.

“Okay, guys, let’s just do the thermometer game and then we’ll call it a day,” the director said, gathering everyone together. Youngjae went and fetched the thermometer. “Who wants to start?”

“I will,” Jackson volunteered, throwing a wink to the camera. “I’m the reigning champion.”

Everyone sat in mock suspense as Jackson held the thermometer in his mouth. When it beeped, he held it up to the camera.

“Thirty-eight point nine!” Jackson crowed. A few of the members _ooh_ -ed. The thermometer was passed to BamBam, who came in a few points after Jackson, and so on. Everyone cheered when Yugyeom hit thirty-nine degrees, causing Jackson to lay it on thick about losing his title. Jinyoung didn’t miss the uneasy looks shared between the cameramen. He knew both of them had kids of their own at home; JInyoung could just imagine them thinking that they would never cheer at such a high fever if it was one of their kids that had it. _Welcome to show business,_ Jinyoung thought bitterly, _where even illness can be twisted into something entertaining for the masses._

When everyone had taken their temperature, they got ready to crown Yugyeom the winner, bringing out the paper crown they had fashioned that morning for this purpose. It was just a piece of computer paper colored with flames and the words “hot champion” on the front, but they all treated it with fake reverence. Just as they were about to settle it on Yugyeom’s sweaty forehead, the director stopped them.

“Wait, why isn’t Jinyoung playing the game?”

“Oh, I don’t want to catch whatever they have,” Jinyoung explained calmly, hoping the director would let it drop. “Can you imagine the germs on that thing? No thanks!”

“We should really get you doing it, though,” the director mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Bring it full circle, you know? To prove you’re not sick, I mean. Then all the teasing makes more sense.”

“We don’t have anything to sanitize it with,” Mark interrupted before Jinyoung could say anything. Jinyoung shot him a grateful look, but it was short-lived. The director shook his head resolutely.

“Just wash it with soap and water. They say that works as good as any disinfectant anyway.”

No one moved to take the thermometer. Clearly no one was comfortable with this idea.

“We need this shot, guys. Come on.”

Jaebum grabbed the thermometer and stood, sighing. “I’ll do it, just a minute.”

When Jaebum returned with the cleaned thermometer, he presented it to Jinyoung with a wary look. Everyone watched quietly as Jinyoung stared at the tiny digital device. With a resolute sigh, he stuck it under his tongue, pushed the button, and waited. The beep sounded. He looked at the screen.

“Thirty-seven degrees,” Jinyoung announced with a smug smile. Everyone groaned, faking annoyance, shouting things about Jinyoung rubbing it in their faces. The director gave them a thumbs up, and everyone gathered together to do their ending statements. Jinyoung cleared the screen of the thermometer behind his back and kicked it under the couch. He saw Jaebum watching him and shrugged, smiling. Jaebum’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Their closing statements took a lot longer than anticipated. Everyone was clearly exhausted from keeping up the façade for so long, and more than one line was flubbed or forgotten entirely. Jinyoung was beginning to feel lightheaded. His lack of sleep was wearing on him. He felt his head droop forward, only to snap it back up when Mark pinched his thigh, hard. He smiled his gratitude, ignoring Mark’s worried look. It didn’t help that Mark was starting to look sort of… blurry. It was kind of funny--in fact, everything was starting to look blurry. Everything except the floor, which was suddenly approaching his face rapidly. Or was it the other way around...?

“Jinyoung!” Someone shouted, and everything went dark.

 

\--

 

Jinyoung woke to the sound of loud beeping. He groaned and rolled over. It was too early for his alarm to be ringing. He needed two more hours of sleep, at least. He drifted off to sleep again. The beeping didn’t stop. He reached out a hand to swat wildly in the direction of the sound, yelping in pain when his hand made contact with something boxy and hard.

“Hyung, don’t hit that!”

A warm hand grabbed his arm and pushed it back under the blanket. He opened his eyes at the touch. Everything was too bright. He shut them again.

“Where am I?” Jinyoung mumbled. His mouth tasted like something had died in it, and his throat burned. His whole body felt heavy, like someone was sitting on top of him.

“The hospital,” the voice--BamBam, he now recognized--said. “You passed out.”

“Really? That’s embarrassing,” Jinyoung said, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes. When he finally cracked them open, he saw unfamiliar speckled ceiling tiles. He definitely wasn’t anywhere in their dorm, and it didn’t feel like a dream… It must be true.

“No kidding,” another voice--Yugyeom--said, laughing. “In front of the camera crew and everything. You totally faceplanted.”

Jinyoung groaned again, and turned to look at the two boys, who were seated next to his bed. BamBam was watching him nervously, and Yugyeom was tapping something out on his phone. Next to them was an IV pole with a clear bag of fluid hanging from it. Jinyoung recognized the squarish shape of the pump as the beeping thing he must have hit with his hand (thankfully, the beeping had stopped after he hit it). He was glad his hospital pajamas covered the place where the IV tubing snaked into his skin. He shuddered just thinking about it--he hated needles.

“How long have I been out?” It was insanely bright in the room, so at least it wasn’t night time yet. At least he hadn’t slept that long.

“Umm, about a day? Give or take?” BamBam guessed. Yugyeom nodded, still glued to his phone.

“ _What?_ How the hell--”

“You had a really high fever, hyung,” BamBam said, looking distinctly uncomfortable again. Was that guilt Jinyoung saw on his face? He must be imagining things… “Plus Mark-hyung told us how you stayed up all night to clean, and how you were hiding being sick the whole time.”

“Well, not the _whole_ time,” Jinyoung muttered, scooting himself up in bed. He ran a hand through his hair, scrunching his nose up in disgust at how greasy it felt. He sat in thought for a moment. He’d lost a whole day, and, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t really remember all that much of the filming the day previous, either. In fact, everything after he cleaned the kitchen was kind of a blur. He looked up at the two boys again. BamBam quickly looked away, pretending he hadn’t just been staring. Yugyeom was still looking at his phone.

“Yah! You’re visiting someone in the hospital! The least you could do is look at the person you’re here to see!”

“I’m updating the members,” Yugyeom said with an eye roll. “I told them you’re awake and now they won’t stop texting me. ‘Just… as… bitchy… as… ever.’ There, done.”

“Aish, this punk,” Jinyoung grumbled. He only just noticed that the room was suspiciously empty. “Where is everyone else anyways?”

“They have a limit of two non-family visitors at a time at this hospital,” BamBam explained, pouting slightly. “We tried to tell them we’re all brothers but they didn’t buy it.”

“Jaebum-hyung and Mark-hyung stayed for the night shift, in case you woke up,” Yugyeom added, finally putting his phone down. “They’re at home, sleeping.” Yugyeom’s phone beeped a few times in rapid succession. “Well, not anymore, apparently, because they _won’t stop texting me._ Jackson-hyung and Youngjae-hyung are out in the waiting room. Their shift is supposed to start in half an hour, but I don’t think they’ll wait that long, now that you’re awake.”

“I could use a coffee, anyways,” BamBam volunteered, standing up and stretching. He nodded at Yugyeom’s phone. “Tell them we’ll swap out now.”

“Got it,” Yugyeom replied, standing as well, face glued to his phone yet again.

“Ya!” Jinyoung whined, miffed that they would abandon him so quickly. “I wake up and you leave, just like that? Aren’t you worried about your hyung?”

“Nah,” Yugyeom said, shrugging. “You’re fine. See you later, hyung!”

And just like that, the maknaes disappeared. Jinyoung crossed his arms over his chest and pouted to himself. If he was being honest with himself, though, he wasn’t actually all that surprised. The two youngest of the group had always been pretty shy about expressing their feelings. Clearly the situation wasn’t dire if they were willing to just take off like that. Hearing words of affection from that pair would have just freaked him out, because he’d have to be on his deathbed for one of them to say something sincere.

Before he could think too much about it, the door to his room was bursting open, and a blur of blonde hair and black sweatshirt was charging at him. Jinyoung put his hands up in panicked defense, only just barely blocking the attack-hug that was aimed at him, courtesy of Jackson Wang. In a moment he was being smothered, Jackson’s nervous hands fluttering all over his face and body.

“Oh my god _you’re alive!”_ Jackson near-yelled, causing Jinyoung to grimace at the increase in volume. If one thing could be said for the maknaes, at least their visit had been quiet. “You almost _died,_ Jinyoung-ah!”

“Hyung, get down, you’ll crush him,” Youngjae interrupted, doing his best to drag Jackson off the hospital bed. Jackson eventually complied, compromising by sitting close enough to the bed to hold Jinyoung’s hand, which he did, very tightly. Once Jackson had settled down, Youngjae took a seat, waving shyly. “Hi hyung. Also, you didn’t really almost die. Jackson-hyung is just being dramatic.”

“Am not!” Jackson said, looking at Youngjae woundedly. He leaned so far forward Jinyoung thought he would fall off the chair, and lowered his voice seriously. “The nurse said you were so dehydrated they almost couldn’t find a vein.”

Youngjae smacked Jackson’s arm, laughing. “Don’t lie, you’ll freak him out.”

“I’m not lying! She really said that!”

“When?”

“When you were in the bathroom.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true! You can ask her!”

Jinyoung covered his mouth with his free hand, holding back a laugh. Jackson and Youngjae weren’t called Got7’s “happy vitamins” for no reason. They cheered Jinyoung up with their presence alone, not to mention their hilarious banter. Jinyoung had missed seeing them so alert and interactive over the past few days.

“You two look like you’re feeling better,” Jinyoung observed once his laughter had subsided.

“It’s hard to feel sick when your friend almost dies,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Youngjae rolled his eyes.

“He didn’t almost--”

“Plus you totally beat mine and Yugyeom’s fever record,” Jackson said, completely ignoring Youngjae. He reached down to his bag and rustled around, pulling something yellow out. As he unfolded it, Jinyoung recognized it: the Hot Champion crown. “Forty degrees definitely wins. You’ve earned it.”

Jackson leaned over to place the crumpled crown on Jinyoung’s head, taking a moment to not-so-subtly brush Jinyoung’s hair back from his forehead. His nose wrinkled.

“You’re not as warm as you were when we brought you here, at least. But ugh, your hair is greasy. Gross.”

“I didn’t have time to shower yesterday,” Jinyoung protested, throwing in a wounded pout for good measure. “I barely had time to sleep after staying up all night cleaning.”

“Yeah… we’re sorry about that, hyung,” Youngjae said, fidgeting. “Mark-hyung really yelled at us for not paying attention to you.”

“Mark-hyung _yelled?_ ”

“Yeah, it was scary,” Jackson said, eyes off in the middle distance, looking haunted. He shuddered and snapped out of it, suddenly rustling around in his backpack again. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot.”

Jackson pulled out a plastic bag and unceremoniously dumped its contents on the bed. Jinyoung yelped as a bottle of something hit him in the leg. He picked it up to examine it--his favorite kind of juice. In fact, the entire bag was just his favorite snacks and drinks, with a couple paperbacks stolen from his room thrown in. He rifled through the stuff, trying to keep the fond smile off of his face and failing.

“This was our homework,” Jackson announced proudly, brimming with glee at Jinyoung’s reaction. “Everybody pitched in.”

“Plus hospital food is terrible,” Youngjae added. “And we don’t know how long they’re keeping you here. I think Mark-hyung and Jaebum-hyung are bringing you lunch later.”

“That’s nice of them,” Jinyoung mumbled, still looking through the stuff. “I can’t believe Mark-hyung actually yelled at you guys.”

“He was pretty strung out after you fainted, hyung. We all were,” Youngjae reasoned. “Everybody was so surprised. We really had no idea you were even sick.”

“To be fair, you usually don’t shut up when something is wrong,” Jackson butted in. “How were we supposed to know that you were sick if you didn’t say anything? We’re not mind readers!”

“Mark-hyung knew,” Youngjae pointed out.

“Yeah, well, Mark _is_ a mind reader, so…”

They spent the rest of the morning sharing Jinyoung’s snacks and chatting, and by the time lunchtime rolled around Jinyoung was sad to see them go.

When Mark and Jaebum shuffled in, Jinyoung didn’t really know how to act. The atmosphere of the room seemed to chill suddenly, making Jinyoung feel on edge, like something bad was about to happen. It was strange, he thought, that two of his closest friends could make him so uncomfortable, when he had had no problem relaxing around Jackson and the younger kids. In all fairness, last few days had been tense between them.

“How are you feeling?” Mark spoke first, settling a bag of takeout on the tray table in front of him. Jinyoung took a minute to rifle through it, pulling out a carton of soup and a spoon. He was definitely not using hunger as an excuse to avoid eye contact, that’s for sure.

“Better,” he replied, shrugging as he popped the lid off the container and sipped at the soup. “A lot better. I don’t really know why I’m still here, honestly.”

“Because you fucking _fainted_ , Jinyoung,” Jaebum practically growled. Jinyoung looked up to see him slouched in one of the chairs, glaring at the IV pole like it had personally offended him. Mark shot Jaebum a warning look, which he ignored. “You could’ve said something. You didn’t have to lie to us.”

“Hey, calm down,” Mark said, giving Jaebum a nudge. Jaebum huffed. Mark turned back to Jinyoung, explaining. “He’s just being a baby because you really scared us for a bit there.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jinyoung mumbled, stirring absentmindedly at his soup. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Well, obviously it _was_ . What if it had been during a performance?” Jaebum interrupted. Jinyoung felt his face begin to heat up. _This bullshit again._ He was getting tired of it.

“Really? Do you have so little faith in me that you think I’d try to perform like that?” Jinyoung asked, knowing Jaebum just wanted to pick a fight and falling for it anyways. Jaebum often tried to provoke people into arguing instead of facing his own emotions. It was a tired tactic, but Jinyoung’s stubborn streak fell for it every time.

“I didn’t think you would try to do a filming schedule like that, so honestly, I don’t know anymore.”

“I only did it because you made it crystal clear that the whole thing had been my fault, _Jaebum_ ,” Jinyoung retorted hotly, purposely dropping the honorific just to piss him off. Jaebum finally looked up to meet his eyes, but instead of the rage Jinyoung expected to see, he saw tears shining wetly in Jaebum’s eyes. The sight left him speechless. Jaebum was… _crying?_

“Okay, let’s backtrack and try this again,” Mark interrupted. He nudged Jaebum, again, who wiped roughly at his eyes. “Remember? We rehearsed this. Say what you really wanted to say.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaebum muttered, eyes lowered once more. “I’m sorry I tried to blame everybody getting sick and the managers finding out about it on you, okay? I was stressed out and you were an easy target.”

“And why was he an easy target?” Mark prompted quietly.

“Because he does whatever I say, even if he knows I’m being stupid,” Jaebum recited. “Because he cares more about the group than he does about himself.”

“Good,” Mark practically cooed. He looked up at Jinyoung, who was fighting a lump in his own throat. “You would not believe how long it took to get that out of him.”

Jinyoung simply nodded, knowing his face was scrunching up in that ugly way it did whenever he cried. Stupid Jaebum, being sincere and kind for once. He always was Jinyoung’s weak spot, and based on the way Jaebum was very obviously trying not to cry, he knew the feeling was mutual.

After a few awkward moments of Mark patting his leg reassuringly and Jaebum deliberately Not Looking at him, Jinyoung composed himself.

“I forgive you.”

“Thanks,” Jaebum said, eyes darting up briefly, gratefully. “I forgive you, too, for being a masochistic idiot sometimes.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jinyoung said, rolling his eyes. “That was short-lived.”

“Good job, boys,” Mark said with a grin, reaching out to ruffle Jaebum’s hair, which he ducked away from, swatting at Mark’s hand. “I knew you could do it!”

“You should really lose a few kilos, Jinyoungie,” Jaebum added mock-seriously, clearly past the emotional moment already. “You’re really heavy when you’re unconscious.”

“What? How would you even know--wait, you _carried me?”_ Jinyoung spluttered, nearly choking on the spoonful of noodles he had in his mouth.

“It was a group effort,” Mark assured. “But the bulk of the effort fell on Jaebum. Jackson tried at first, but since you’re so much taller than him, he almost dropped you.”

“Oh my God,” Jinyoung moaned, burying his face in his hands. “That is so embarrassing.”

“No, what’s embarrassing is that you were wearing Youngjae’s underwear,” Jaebum corrected, eyes shining mischievously. Jinyoung blanched.

“How did you know…?”

“How do you think you got into those pajamas, Jinyoungie?” Jaebum cooed.

Jinyoung looked to Mark, panicking. Mark blushed.

“Another group effort.”

_“Oh my God…”_


End file.
